I am woman, hear me Rory
by EmptyHallway
Summary: Rory's legs jerked her forward, nearly lunging for Logan's shoulder before he had a chance to escape into the din of the bar. Elegance was not her forte today, it seemed. "I hate you for leaving." She snapped. ROGAN, Five years post-finale!
1. Aware

_Rory Huntzberger Rory Huntzberger Rory Huntzberger Rory Huntzberger. _

Rory didn't even realize what she was doodling until Paul asked her a question, shaking her out of her reverie.

"Whu-huh?" _Eloquent, Gilmore_. She thought to herself, groaning a little.

"I _asked _whether you were willing to cut your article by fifty words. Pray tell, what is so urgent that you have to be writing in that little notebook during out meeting, Ms. Gilmore?" Paul crossed one leg over the other and leaned against the corner of his desk, peering sideways at her notebook.

_Ah, shit! _Rory thought, realizing what she had done. _Again. _She slapped her notebook shut and dropped it onto her lap like it was poison. "Nothing." She was sure her cheeks were scarlet. He hoped Paul didn't notice.

"Hm." Paul stood up again. "Liz wants to throw an advice column your way, Ms. Gilmore."

Rory cocked her head, questioning this statement. The word cut, she had expected. A new column, not so much. "She seems to think you have much to teach young girls aspiring to journalism. She's probably right. You're a rare gem, Ms. Gilmore." Rory was sure she was blushing now.

"Thanks, Paul." She murmured.

"So, unless you have objections to the cut or the new assignment, I'll put you in touch with Liz about the details."

"Yes, Paul."

Paul nodded curtly and pivoted on the ball of his foot, heading back behind his desk. "That'll be all, Ms. Gilmore."

Rory pushed her chair out and quickly exited the office, breathing deeply as she was met by the bustling room outside. She strode back to her desk, enjoying the clicking of her patent pumps against the glossy wood floor. The spacious, bright workspace was one of her favourite thing about working at the magazine. Five years ago, if someone had told her she'd be writing for a young girl's magazine, she'd have laughed in their face. But this magazine was different. She'd fallen in love with the idea the second they had approached her about contributing freelance. A socially conscious magazine for tweens? Reporting news that mattered to girls just like she had been, noses in books and heads in the clouds?

When she was given the opportunity to write full time for_ Aware, _she jumped at the chance. _ Not to mention, the chance to be away from the Huntzberger name_. Rory shook the thought out of her head. Okay, so maybe it had been harder than she thought to avoid Huntzberger owned media. And it wasn't like her name was on a blacklist or anything. In fact, she had whizzed through interviews at two Huntzberger papers, choosing to work at her favourite of the two. No, it wasn't the Huntzbergers who hated her for the decision she had made. It was her; she couldn't deal with the connection to the name that could have been hers. _ Rory Huntzberger Rory Huntzberger Rory Huntzberger. _She flipped open the notebook and tore the page out more enthusiastically than she had planed. Scrumpling it in her first, she lobbed it into her mesh wastebasket. Screw Rory Huntzberger. She was Rory Gilmore, the accomplished journalist. She was Rory Gilmore, the wunderkin of _Aware _magazine.

She was twice the woman Rory Huntzberger could ever have been.


	2. Mark

Rory rapped on the door sharply.

"Coming!" A deep voice boomed from the other side. The door was yanked open to reveal a tall man, dark hair falling into his eye as he looked down at the book in his hand.

"Too good to put down and greet your girlfriend properly?" Rory mused with a smile on her face.

"Mmm. Let me juuuuus…" He trailed off to dog-ear the page, toss the book aside, and pull Rory into a warm embrace. "Greetings, girlfriend." He smiled widely. Rory buried her nose into his sweater, enjoying the smell she had come to associate with his apartment.

"Greetings, boyfriend." She replied. "Can I come in?"

"Naturally." He broke their hug to bow and gesture dramatically towards his kitchen. "Mi casa es su casa."

Rory left her purse at the door and pulled herself onto a barstool. "And what a wonderful casa it is. Seriously, Mark. I can't believe you've only been here six months. When I moved it took me a good year to unpack everything, let alone make it look like an architectural digest front cover."

Mark designed furniture for a living, and used his home as a showcase of some of his favourite work. And of course, working in shops and design firms, his housewarming gifts had all been beautiful pieces that Rory wouldn't have even thought to choose in a store. All found their perfect place in Mark's immaculate apartment.

"To be fair, Ror, your house still doesn't look like a magazine cover." Rory brought a hand to her heart, mock-offended.

"You cut me deep, Mark."

"If you'd let me design a couple pieces…"

"And spare me the need to go to ikea? Never! Keep your fancypants furniture here, I'll stick to my Billy bookcases."

Mark smiled. Rory smiled. This relationship was going just the way it was supposed to be going. Three months on, and they were cute, and couple-y. They bantered, they bickered, they gushed. Rory felt somewhat proud of the three month mark they had just passed. Sad as it may be, it was her longest relationship since Logan.

Ok, so that sounded really sad. But when she considered the timeline, she hadn't been in the same place long enough to throw down roots since then. First the campaign trail. Then the UK for her masters degree. Then the year living her dream as a foreign correspondent in the Middle East. Finally back to the States, working for the _Times_. And then _Aware. _Her half-year anniversary at the magazine was coming up, and Brooklyn was the closest place to home she had since she left Stars Hollow. Really, relationships had been at the very back of her mind until she met Mark. Sure, she had gone on a few dates here and there at the urging of friends and coworkers, but they had inevitably ended with her rushing home to do work, and never making the effort to call back.

"Dreaming again, Ror?" Mark had snuck up behind her, resting his chin on her shoulder. Rory nodded, smiling at the feeling of his scruffy stubble against her cheek. "So, big news in Roryland?" He asked, pulling his head away.

"Yeah, actually!" Rory swivelled to face him. "Liz is giving me a new column. An advice column, of all things. She wants me to answer questions about getting involved in journalism and activism."

"That's great, Rory!" Mark seemed genuinely excited for her. "Man, must have been something in the air today. I have great news too! Guess who got a commission to design an office suite?"

"Mark! That's fantastic!"

Mark nodded enthusiastically. "It's my first major account since my move. Actually, it's a company I did some work for back home. They're setting up a new office here. It's a really big deal; They're converting an old warehouse into a facility for at least 30 employees… They want desks, chairs, conference tables, even the staff lounge is coming from my sketchbook. The whole team is involved, and we're taking this client on full time until the project is done. Laura's in charge of interior design, Dave is my lead carpenter… I'm really excited."

Rory smiled warmly. "Well then, you'll be too busy to pester me about my lack of coffee table, I suppose." Mark wrapped his arms around her tightly.

"Definitely not. I'd never be too busy for your coffee table. Or any other table needs you should happen to have."

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><p>AN: Hi guys! I figured I should say something, since just throwing up chapters might be leaving y'all in the dark. I'm kind of digging the petit vignettes thing right now, so pardon the lack of cohesive plot line. Let me know if you like it, or if you'd rather see the story evolve into a more fluid story kind of thing. This will wind up being a Rogan, and I expect the story will become more plot-driven in a couple of chapters (HINT). Until then, I'm really trying to give you some glimpses into Rory's life, and what she's all about. I'd really love to know what you think, because this is my first crack at fanfiction in a looooooong time.

Cheers!


	3. Ask Ace

Rory's face paled the instant the words came out of Liz's mouth. She was certain she looked like she had seen a ghost. Liz was almost bouncing, she was so excited about the name she had come up with. And bouncing was no small feat for someone as pregnant as Liz was.

"Are you… sure?" Rory cringed, knowing full well that Liz was very sure.

"Yes! It's perfect! You're our ace reporter, our very own resident journalist! Come on, you know the rule! Bonus points for alliteration! I can't wait to see it in print!"

"Ask Ace?" The words almost choked Rory coming up.

"Ask Ace!" Liz echoed, clapping her hands.

"It's just… I'm just…" Rory frantically searched her mind for a rational explanation why_ Ask Ace_ was a bad name for her advice column. Well, a more rational explanation than 'former pet name'.

"I don't think girls will get it."

Liz's eyes narrowed. "Gillian?" She called to the woman standing at the photocopier. "What do you think of calling Rory's column 'Ask Ace'?"

Gillian chuckled. "I like it." Rory cast a withering stare at the fashion editor.

"Traitor." She mouthed. Gillian shrugged.

"You know, I really think Ace suits you."

Rory's heart seized. "Uh, nah. No. Not really. I don't know. Why would you… Uh, I'm gonna get back to work." She squeaked.

Liz raised an eyebrow, looking at Rory like she had grown a second head. "Sure. Ask Ace. I love it. I can't wait to see your first column!"

Rory sighed and turned back to her computer. Ace? Really? Did the world hate her? Nobody had called her Ace since Logan walked out. She had accepted that nobody was going to call her Ace ever again. Well, she pretended she had accepted the fact.

Rory almost banged her head against the keyboard in frustration. She was completely over Logan Huntzberger! She had barely given him a passing thought for years. What had gotten into her recently? The doodling, the reminders, the dream?

Oh boy.

The dream.

What a dream it had been. Rory hadn't dreamed about Logan in a while, but last week she had dreamed they were in Stars Hollow together. Married. With kids. It was quite possibly the least sexy dream she had ever had involving Logan, and yet it stuck with her more than even the steamiest one.

"So, I take it you're not fond of the name Ace?" Gillian stood in front of Rory's desk with a stack of freshly photocopied paper.

"No. No, I am not."

"Story?" Gillian prompted.

"Ex-boyfriend." Rory crinkled her nose.

"An ex-boyfriend, or _the _ex-boyfriend?" Gillian leaned forward, dropping her tone. Rory rarely spoke about _the _ex-boyfriend. In fact, Rory rarely spoke about any boyfriends, ex or otherwise. Rory sighed heavily by way of response, and Gillian nodded knowingly. As one of Rory's closer friends, Gillian knew almost the whole story of her and Logan's relationship. More importantly, she knew how they had ended it. Abruptly, dissatisfied, and both still wanting the other.

"Maybe he'll read the column and be reminded of you, and regret being such an idiot."

"Why would he read a tween magazine?" Rory snorted.

Gillian paused thoughtfully. "Fresh perspective on global events?"

"You're not helping, Gill."


	4. Serendipity

**I think I'm in love with y'all. Seriously. Thanks for reviewing, it's so so so nice to have my work out there again! It's been a ridiculously long time since any writing of mine has seen the light of day, and I love your kind words and compliments! I was originally going to chop chapter in two, and leave the first on a cliffhanger, but you have melted my grinchy heart. You deserve it all in one go. **

**And lgar? I love guessing games too! So, this chapter is a special shout out to you; I didn't want to leave you in suspense any longer ;)**

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><p><em>Dear Ace<em>. Oh my. Would her heart jump like that every time she read a letter for this column? Rory certainly hoped not.

As she had feared, _Ask Ace _had catapulted poor Rory on a week long trip down memory lane. She couldn't walk past anything, indoors or out, without somehow being flashed back to something Logan had said, or done, five years ago.

Five years ago!

She was going crazy. Logan Huntzberger was a ghost in her past. Forget it, move on. She _had _moved on. So why could she all of a sudden not get him out of her mind?

Rory minimized the screen on her computer and pulled open Firefox. Almost without thinking, her fingers danced across the keyboards, ending triumphantly on the enter button. Immediately, her search results popped up. Rory groaned. She was sunk.

_Your search for Logan Huntzberger has yielded 80,300 results_.

Great, 80,000 pages of reminders of the man Rory had almost married.

_Had I almost married him? _Rory mused to herself.

She still remembers that her first instinct was to say yes. But that dreaded pro/con list kicked in. She really didn't think he'd just _walk away_.

They hadn't spoken since the breakup. She'd contemplated texting him, or calling him, or emailing him a few times. But it always sounded wrong, corny, lame, and stupid. So she never did. And he never tried to contact her. They had both moved on. Rory's eyes scanned the browser screen. Apparently, he was moving on very well; the first page was full of accolades to his success in internet media. Despite herself, Rory smiled. She was proud of him. He did it. He managed to make a name for himself, make his own money, without his family.

As she scrolled down the page, a link startled her. Rory felt her eyes widen. Almost tentatively, she clicked it. A familiar face filled her desktop, and Rory's breath hitched. He looked the same. Identical. Gorgeous as ever. His eyes were more severe than the light-hearted ones she remembered, but his smile, his tousled hair, his posture hadn't changed in the five years they had been apart. He was Logan, alright.

And according to the article, he was moving to New York.

Rory jabbed a finger out and switched off her monitor, screwing her eyes shut tight. She hadn't read that. No, no, no, no. Logan was _not _moving to New York.

Logan was _not _moving to New York!

She was almost tempted to read the article, figure out why the headline would say that, or what he was doing in New York, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Instead, she grabbed her purse from off her desk, swiped her notebook, and strode out the door. "Hey Gillian, I'm going to grab a coffee. Be back in fifteen." She tossed at her friend on her way out.

"Grab me a cappucino!" Gillian replied absentmindedly, not looking up from her own computer. Rory nodded, pulled out her cellphone, and texted for Mark to meet her at the coffeeshop near her office. She could definitely use a distraction.

By the time she had ordered her latte and sat down at her favourite table, Rory was already feeling less frazzled. This whole business was ridiculous. New York was a big city. A huge city! Just because he lived here didn't mean she'd ever see him. Hell, she had managed to avoid Dean, decades ago, and that was in Stars Hollow. If you could avoid someone _there_, New York would be a cinch. Easy peasy.

Rory entertained herself by imagining ways they would never meet, and lives they would live completely apart, until she saw Mark walking into the front door. He walked into the café on his cellphone, caught up in laughter.

"'Course, buddy," he was saying. Upon seeing him, Rory perked up from behind her comically large latté. He waved and ambled over to join her. "Right. Yeah, man. I gotta go, meeting my girlfriend for coffee. Yeah. Looking forward to it, cheers!" He pulled the phone away from his ear and tucked it into his pocket.

"Sorry 'bout that," he apologized to Rory. She shrugged.

"No biggie. Who was it?"

"The guy who owns the business we're designing for."

"Oh?" Rory was intrigued. Mark was usually a pretty stuffy businessman. She had assumed it was a friend from back home. "You seemed pretty chummy."

Mark nodded, "Yeah, he's not much like my usual clients. He's only a couple years older than us, I think. Awesome story, too. Started with nothing, built up this great firm with no help."

"Hm." Rory frowned slightly, her heartbeat quickening ever so slightly. "So you said he was from L.A.?"

Mark raised an eyebrow. "What's with the reporter bit? Not giving you enough digging around at the magazine?" A smile played across his face, clearly teasing her.

Rory sat back in her seat, feeling defensive. "What? No. Just… Just curious. It's a big deal for you. I was just curious."

She was being nuts. Did Mark sense something was up? Was she that obvious? It didn't matter, she was being stupid. There was no way… But it _did _fit… And the article earlier _had_ said...Mark chuckled.

"Geez, Ror, what's gotten into you? I was just kidding. Nah, he's not from L.A. at all. I met him through a mutual friend. His company was based in Palo Alto."

"Palo… Palo Alto?" _Cool your jets, Gilmore. Deep breath, sip your coffee, there's a girl. _Mark nodded.

"And… He started the company?" Rory didn't want to hear the answer. No, that was a lie. She couldn't wait to hear the answer. But she didn't want to hear it. Mark nodded again.

"Yep. Did it all by himself. I told you, Thom is just that kind of guy."

Her stomach dropped out from her throat, and Rory almost laughed aloud. In fact, she might have snorted into her cup. Okay, so she was pretty sure she did snort into her cup. Ick. She rested the cup down, grabbing a napkin to wipe the frothy milk from her nose.

"Thom?" She pursed her lips together, holding back a relieved giggle. _That's it, Gilmore. No more reading silly romance books. No more watching chick flicks. You are officially quitting serendipity cold turkey. _What was she thinking, that Logan would magically be Mark's bestie that he had never mentioned? That he ran the only company in Palo Alto? That he was going to come to New York and send her a coffee cart to follow her around, begging for her to reconsider after five years apart?

Please. This was real life, not a fairy tale.

When she regained her composure, she turned back to Mark. "So, what is it exactly that Thom does?"

"Clothing. Eco-friendly stuff, you know, all that local sustainable jazz people are falling over themselves for?"

Rory nodded. Thom the clothier. Mark was designing an office for Thom the clothier. Rory thanked God and cursed at him simultaneously.


	5. Paint the town

The next couple of weeks passed uneventfully. Mark talked more and more about Thom's office space, which Rory now enjoyed listening to without having her heart jump into her throat. Still, at the back of her mind, she couldn't get that headline to leave. Everywhere she went, she looked over her shoulder for a glimpse of familiar blond hair.

In line at Starbucks one morning, the man in front of her was wearing a grey jacket, almost identical to the one Logan used to own. Of course it wasn't Logan, she scolded herself when he turned around. He probably doesn't even own that jacket anymore.

Like any self-respecting girl in denial, she confronted her feelings the old-fashioned way, and ignored the completely, throwing herself into her work. Even Paul noticed the uptick in her efficiency: Rory wrote more articles more furiously than she had in a long time.

_Ask Ace _had been a smashing success in it's debut issue, and she already had a large shoebox full of letters from optimistic, bright-eyed twelve year olds.

_Dear Ace, _she pulled a letter out and started to read. The writing was painstakingly careful, on thick, crisp ruled notepaper. _I've always wanted to be a journalist. I'm starting high-school next year, and the school I am going to doesn't have a paper. What do you need to do to start a school paper?_

Rory smiled to herself, remembering her own similar endeavours in her freshman year at Stars Hollow High. Pushing all vestiges of man-drama out of her head, she pulled open a word processing page. Who needed men when there were high-school newspapers to create?

She was just starting to get into her reply when Gillian cleared her throat, standing next to Rory's desk.

"You've been looking mopey all week." She informed Rory.

"No I haven't." Rory would deny it until the day she died.

"Problems with the missus?"

Rory shook her head vehemently. "No! Me and Mark are doing great. I've just been… Distracted. By… Work!" Rory squeaked out the last word, lying through her teeth.

"Fine. Be like that." Gillian sighed. There was a beat of silence and Rory turned back to her computer to resume work. But Gillian wasn't done yet.

"You're coming out with me tonight. End of story." Gillian leaned against the desk and announced.

Rory wheeled around on her chair and raised an eyebrow.

"Nope. No negotiating. No discussions. You never come out with me, Ms. Homebody." Gillian commanded before Rory could open her mouth.

"You go out to pick up guys, Gill. I have a guy."

"Be my wingwoman then. Or break up with Mark. I don't care. Do what needs to be done, but _you are coming out with me tonight_."

Rory smiled despite herself. "Fine, Gill. One drink." Gillian squealed and gave Rory a hug.

"Wear something cute!" She called over her shoulder as she rushed back to her desk.

* * *

><p>Gillian came to pick her up at seven, right as Rory was zipping up the back of her black, slinky dress.<p>

"We, madame, are going to paint the town red tonight. You look simply ravishing." Gillian stated definitely, eyeing Rory up and down. It was true, Rory was a stunner. "Shame you're off the market. Otherwise I'd take you."

"And disappoint all the eligible bachelors in New York? Not a chance. My duty to humanity is keeping you single, Gillian."

Gillian offered Rory her arm, which she linked her own with, and the friends sashayed out of the apartment and into their waiting cab.

On the drive, Rory found herself staring distractedly out the window, looking for a glimpse of Logan. Not that she expected to see him. Or that she even wanted to. She definitely didn't want to. Really.

"Ok, you're seriously freaking me out." Gillian announced.

"Hm?"

"Do you realize haven't said anything this whole car ride?"

"Hm." Rory craned her neck at a blond man walking out of a subway.

"You are damn weird, Rory Gilmore. What is up with you lately?"

"Nothing!" Rory snapped her head back towards Gillian, shields up. Gillian said nothing, just staring at her pointedly, eyebrow cocked and a wicked grin on her face.

"I'm not stupid. You've been distracted every time we're out of the office. And you answer the phone with your eyes shut. Did something happen with Mark?"

"I already told you, no! I've just been thinking."

"About?"

"Nothing."

"Don't make me beg," Gillian pouted.

"My ex." Rory confessed, cringing. Gillian's mouth formed a neat 'o' in shock, and Rory just barely caught the twinkle of glee in her eye. Gillian was drawn to drama like a moth to a flame.

"Don't freak out!" Rory rushed to explain, "I just accidentally googled him a while ago and it turns out he's moving to New York and I keep thinking I might see him again, and that would be bad, very bad, because I don't know how I feel about him, and it's starting to get to me that we never had any closure, and for a second I thought he was Mark's client, but he isn't so that's great, but then I didn't know where he was again and so I was back at square one and I'm terrified of Starbucks because what if he's in front of me just ordering a coffee like it's a regular day? And it's not like I'm still in love with him or anything, I mean yeah we were together for a really long time, but we've been broken up for longer and I don't know why I miss him all of a sudden. I don't even know if I do miss him, I think I just want to shout at him and ask him why he left and why he never wondered about me. I mean who walks out of a three year relationship without even looking over their shoulder? But it doesn't matter because I found Mark, and he's so great, and even if I did see Logan, what would I even say? Hi Logan, nice to see you after five years, I still dream about being your wife?"

Gillian's little 'o' fell into complete slack-jawed awe.

"You lost me at 'accidentally googled', hon."


	6. Pigheaded reprobate

In all honesty, the bar was too dark for Rory's tastes, the crowd too loud, and the drinks too smooth.

It was one of those pretentious, white-vinyl-purple-leather places, frequented by slick businessmen and women with cleavage that challenged the laws of gravity. They snagged a spot at the bar and ordered martinis, Gillian obviously sizing up the meat market around them as they sipped their drinks.

"Cute blond in the corner." Gillian informed Rory. Rory shook her head.

"Dark hair, green eyes," she nodded her head towards a guy a couple seat down, amiably chatting with a group of friends.

"Yum." Gillian agreed. "I'll keep my eye on him."

"You know, Gill, maybe once we should try going out without trying to pick up guys," Rory teased her giggled.

"People go out for other reasons?" She played along with Rory.

"Well, I've heard. I'm still not convinced." Gillian caught the dark haired man's eye, and gave a little wave.

"You know, sometimes this seems almost too easy," Gillian muttered as he approached the pair.

"We are unfairly beautiful," Rory agreed sagely.

"Must be hard being less perfect than us." Gillian smiled wickedly.

"I'm Charlie, pleasure to meet you." The man stopped next to Rory and held his hand out to Gillian.

"Gillian," she introduced herself. "And this is my friend Rory."

"So, which pickup line should I open this with?" He asked. His voice had a pleasant lilt to it, faint traces of a foreign accent.

"Hm?"

"Can I buy you a drink? Come here often? What are a pair of gorgeous girls like yourselves doing here without your boyfriends?"

Gillian laughed, and Rory offered a genuine grin.

"Yes, no, and making them realize how lucky they are." Gillian winked at Rory as she answered Charlie.

"Two more for the ladies and a scotch neat for me," Charlie gestured to the bartender. "Cheers," He tilted his glass to the girls as they started their drinks.

"So, you do have boyfriends? What a pity. Seems you just can't luck out in this city."

"Oh, no!" Rory returned Gillian's wink. "I have a boyfriend, but this one's free as a bird."

"I do like birds," Charlie was quick on his feet. Rory liked him already.

Several drinks and much chatter later, Charlie excused himself to the bathroom, leaving the girls at the bar to regroup.

"I think you've found the one." Rory told Gillian rather seriously. "A lawyer from Essex with an extensive vintage record collection? That's some powerfully sexy stuff."

"Well he's no designer from Los Angeles who reads like a librarian." Gillian teased, "But I guess he'll do."

"We can't all bag the good ones," Rory poked back.

"Hey, you know what you've never told me? What did the ex do for a living?"

"The ex?" It took a second for Rory, in her slightly inebriated state, to register who Gillian was referring to.

"Yeah, the famous ex. Was he a superstar or something? He must have been a pretty fancy guy for you to be so hung up on him five years after the fact."

"What? I am _so _not hung up on him. And he wasn't. Famous, I mean. He was just a normal guy."

"Oh wow."

"Wow what?" Rory inquired. "He was _that _good in bed?"

"Gillian!" Rory felt her cheeks flush. After a beat of silence, Rory mumbled, "And maybe he was."

Gillian hooted with laughter loudly, and Rory grabbed her arm, shushing her.

"It doesn't matter, anyway, Gill. Obviously we were not meant to be." Rory knew she was beet red, Gillian still cackling with laughter.

"No, the only obvious thing about the situation is that he was a loser."

Rory shrugged. "He had a point, long distance isn't an ideal basis for a grown up relationship."

"Don't kid yourself, Rory. He was a jerk. And he totally deserved to lose you."

"It's not that simple…" Rory trailed off.

"Pfft. Totally is. Just admit it, Rory, he was a jerk."

"He wasn't a -"

"I'm serious! Admit it!"

"Fine, maybe he was a bit of a jerk," Rory said with a little smile. Gillian looked pleased with herself. But not quite finished yet.

"What would you say to him, if he was here right now?" She asked suddenly, staring at Rory almost sternly. Rory looked at her friend like she was crazy.

"Why would he be here right now?"

"He's not! That's not the point. Pretend I'm him. What would you say to me?"

"You're nuts."

"Me or your ex?"

"Both of you."

"Come on, humor me!" Gillian placed both of her hands firmly on Rory's shoulders. "Hey baby. I'm an asshole who runs away when he doesn't get his way," she put on a deep, fake male voice, and waggled her eyebrows at Rory.

"You're… Yeah!" Rory agreed. Oh wow, she probably hadn't needed that last drink. "You're a… a pig-headed reprobate!" Gillian snorted laughter.

"I have no idea what that means." She giggled.

"It means… It means that Logan Huntzberger _sucks_." Rory explained, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. Yeah. That last drink had just kicked in, and it was sitting directly on top of her common sense. Gillian cocked her head. The famous ex-boyfriend had a name, all of a sudden.

"What was that, Rory? Who sucks?" She egged her friend on.

"Logan Huntzberger!" Rory shouted, almost at the top of her lungs. She stared intently at Gillian, failing to notice a head turn across the bar. "Logan Huntzberger is a sucky, pig-headed reprobate!"

Gillian was dissolved in giggles, and Rory joined in. Both were so caught up trying to breathe that neither noticed the man who had stood up and crossed the bar, looking for the woman who had just shouted his name. Rory was startled when someone spoke from behind her.

"I suppose it's better than a butt-faced miscreant." A familiar voice said, rather dryly.

Rory felt her world bottom out from under her.


	7. Let it go

**Hey y'all! First off, I love you. Each and every one of you who read this, whether you review or not. It feels so nice to be back in fanfiction! Second order of business: I'm thinking of where this fic is going, and I'm wondering: would y'all be down with a bump up to M (i.e. things getting a little bit smutty)? I'm ok with keeping it T but I'd like to know what you guys think. Leave a review and let me know!**

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><p>The room froze over. Rory was sure of it. She felt chilled, then hot. A flutter in her stomach. She willed herself to retort something clever but her mind was reeling so rapidly she couldn't catch a single word. Gillian was the first to move. "<p>

You must be the ex." She said decidedly.

Logan nodded curtly. "I guess you've heard of me."

"You've come up in conversation."

Rory was still shell-shocked. She had been anticipating this moment since reading that headline, and yet she hadn't actually expected it to ever happen.

"I have to go." The first words that fell past her lips were accompanied by her sliding off the stool and moving towards the door. Gillian caught her arm and swung her around.

"Nonsense. I'm sure you and the ex have some catching up to do.""

No. No, we _don't_." Rory snapped at Gillian, but let herself be led back to the bar. Logan was standing still, the faintest hint of amusement in his eyes.

"Logan, is it?" Gillian asked the blond. He nodded again. "I'm Gillian. Rory and I were just talking about you, actually. She has a few things she'd like to tell you."

"No, Gill." Rory protested weakly, having finally picked a mood to settle on. Sullen and pouty. Not her most attractive option, true, but it was being backed by four martinis and five years of repression.

"Logan? I'm sure you can take it from here. Rory, you talk to Logan. I just spotted Charlie, I think I'm going to go for his number, ok?"

Rory nodded numbly, vaguely registering as Gillian left her side and was replaced by Logan.

Who was still very attractive.

In fact, potentially more attractive than ever.

"So," He ventured, "It's been a while."

Rory scowled, turning to him for the first time.

Bad move.

As soon as she met his eyes, she knew the chemistry was still there. Rory swallowed thickly. The electricity crackling between them was dangerous, even after five years apart.

"It's been a while?" She snapped. "That's what you're going with?"

"You look beautiful." He tried next.

Rory's scowl deepened."You're not helping your cause, Huntzberger."

"I didn't realize I had a cause to help."

"You don't."

"How've you been keeping?"

"Fine."

"We're not going to talk, then?" Logan looked downright amused at her grumpiness, a fact which irritated Rory even more.

"What about?"

"I don't know." He smirked at her, "I'm not the one who yelled _your _name out in a crowded bar."

"Moment of weakness. What can I say. I don't see why that means we have to talk." Rory turned back away from him, hoping he'd disappear. The sheer insanity made her almost want to laugh out loud. First she spends two weeks on edge, seeing him everywhere, and now that he was in front of her, she couldn't put together a coherent thought?

"You're not the least bit curious about my life?"

"If I had been, don't you think I would have called or something? Sent you an email?"

"No, I don't think you would have, because you're Rory, you're stubborn, and we broke up."

"So, why would I care how you're doing?" Rory felt a pang of something, but she couldn't quite define what, when he called her Rory. Wrongness? No. But something was off about it.

"I'd love to hear how you're doing. How things turned out."

Rory snorted disbelievingly and turned back around slowly. "How things turned out? What, you want to know if I think I made a mistake, turning you down? You want your ego stroked or something?"

Logan held a hand out defensively. "Rory, it's not like that. That's not what I meant. Come on, I know you. I know you're curious."

"You don't _know_ me. You _knew _me, mister. Emphasis on the _past. _You stopped knowing me when you left like that."

"Like what? Rory, that was five years ago. We're different people now. Meeting in a bar. Different circumstances. Hey, here's an idea. Let me take you to dinner. We can catch up, talk about old times."

Rory felt a fleeting second of temptation, but it was quickly swallowed by an almost blinding rage. Trust _him _to waltz back into her life like nothing had happened.

"Oh sure, let's pick up where we left before. No apology, no discussion, let's just _go on a date_? Have you lost your mind?"

"So now you want to discuss?" He smirked. She could have slapped it off his face.

"No, now I want you to leave me alone!" She snapped, whipping back towards the bar with every intent to not turn around, regardless of what he said next.

"Come on, Rory! The past is the past! We were young, stupid, can't you just let it go?" He shrugged while he spoke, like the whole business had been some silly misunderstanding. Not a breakup that had taken her almost two years to get over.

"Let it go? Let it _go_? Logan, you broke my heart! I _loved _you and you told me that wasn't enough!" Ok, so maybe that not-turning-around thing had been premature.

"Yeah well, maybe I saw it a bit differently. Every consider that?" He took a step closer to her. Rory had flipped his switch. Even after this long, she could still do that. His entire demeanour shifted, from relaxed to aggressive. His shoulders tensed, his brow furrowed, the veins in his neck constricted. Defensive, almost shouting.

Rory's eyes narrowed. "I spent a year considering it every way I could." She seethed. "And maybe, ever consider this, you could have given me some time to _think_. You could have _called _me to talk about it. You could have acknowledged that you threw away something that could have lasted because of your pride!"

Logan threw his arms up, exasperated. "What do you want from me, Rory? I was trying to be civil. What happened happened. You made yourself clear that night, as did I. And I didn't ask for you to come back into my life tonight. This has nothing to do with me. If you can't let it go, don't pin that on me. I let us go as soon as you turned me down."

That stung.

"I've let it go!" Rory flung back at him. "I'm in a relationship! And I love him, in fact, he's perfect for me!"

The words hung in the air, weighty and sharp. Rory was almost as startled by them as Logan was. She didn't love Mark. She was fond of Mark, yes. Maybe one day she'd love Mark. But she didn't yet. Logan recovered before she did, taking a step back.

Rory faltered at the sudden space between them, acutely aware of the coldness that had filled it.

"Well then, you won't care that I'm leaving now, Rory." He jammed his hands into his pockets and turned away from her quickly. She wanted to call after him, but any words she could think of were stuck.

* * *

><p><strong>Oh the angst! Oh the drama! I WONDER WHAT WILL HAPPEN NEXT! (p.s. remember to let me know... M or T?)<strong>


	8. Maybe

**So, we're still in the T zone for a while, guys, but I think that later on this may be bumped up to an M. Only if it feels right, I won't force it. Thank you thank you thank you for your reviews, they keep me writing! Enjoy the chapter, and let me know how you like it! :)**

* * *

><p>Rory's legs jerked her forward, nearly lunging for Logan's shoulder before he had a chance to escape into the small throng of people close to the door. Elegance was not her forte today, it seemed.<p>

"I hate you for leaving." She snapped.

Tact wasn't her thing either, apparently.

Logan turned around cocked an eyebrow. "I hate you for refusing to marry me."

Rory nodded dumbly, caught off guard. "Okay." She finally decided on, crushing the awkward silence between them.

Logan laughed aloud, a throaty laugh, genuinely amused by her stupor.

"Rory, come on, you do realize I'm not that same kid who asked you to marry him, right?"

Rory frowned, her lips scrunched together. She hated how nonchalant he was. All the time. It's like nothing ever got to him. Not her rejection, not her presence now, nothing. "So you're not angry?"

Logan smiled wryly. "Of course I'm angry, Rory. I'm angry we broke up all those years ago, because we could have been great. I'm angry you never gave me a chance. But I guess it wasn't meant to be. You're with someone else, as you just informed me not a minute ago."

Just like that, her temper stirred again. "Why do you keep saying that? You still think it's my fault, don't you? I gave you the chance, Logan! I said, let's give long distance a try! Are you forgetting that? God, I'm sorry I started talking to you. Why don't you leave?"

Logan's smirk dropped the tiniest bit, barely discernible. But Rory caught it. She still knew him well enough to have caught it.

"Well, maybe I don't want to leave any more." His tone was that of a petulant child. Her eyes narrowed, both of them staring the other down intensely. What had set them off? For a fleeting second, Rory had almost thought they were going to be able to talk, to joke, to reminisce. Why did they have to get under each others skin?

"Fine," she snapped, irritated with herself and with him, "Then I will."

"Don't you have to wait for your friend?"

"She's a big girl. She'll get herself home. I just want to get away from _you_." She stormed out the door without looking back, only slowing down when she was greeted by the brisk chill of night air on her bare arms. She was boiling on the inside, her stomach in knots, her cheeks flaming, her fingers shaking. Half of it was nerves. The other half was that electricity, an unbridled passion she had honestly forgotten she was capable of feeling. Not feeling like she could get in a cab quite yet, she decided to walk a block to clear her head.

Big mistake. It took about a minute before she heard heavy footsteps behind her.

"Rory. What the hell was that?"

She didn't answer, and kept walking, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Rory!" Logan called again. "Can we start this all over again?"

"What, the last five minutes, or our entire relationship?" She shot over her shoulder, still walking determinedly ahead.

"Either. You choose. Rory, just turn around. Look at me?" That faint hint of pleading. He did feel bad for making her angry. Rory turned around, and he stopped at least four feet away, their five years apart separating them.

"I've been thinking about seeing you again for a while." Logan confessed, his voice quiet.

Rory blinked. "Me too." She murmured, unsure of whether he could even hear her from where he stood. Apparently he did, because he took a step closer to her, bolstered by her words.

"We left things too messy. Too abrupt."

"We were young. Neither of us was ready to be married." Rory's words were firm, and certain, more certain than they had ever been coming from her mouth.

Logan hesitated slightly, then nodded. "I'm sorry I blamed you for it."

If he expected an apology from her, he wasn't going to get one.

"Thank you," Rory chose instead, taking her own step towards him. Only two feet now.

"I checked in on you, every so often," Logan told her, "you've had an amazing few years, Rory."

"I wouldn't have been able to do any of that if we had gotten married." Rory pointed out, cringing as she realized how harsh her words sounded. Another step towards him, her form of apology for the bluntness.

"Maybe. Who knows how we could have turned out, in another life." The last step brought them so close their arms were almost touching. Rory could feel his warmth, his breath breaking through the cold air.

"Maybe." Rory looked up at him, then away, unable to handle the intensity in his gaze. Neither of them spoke for a moment. There was too much to say, too many ways to have this conversation. Realizing their standstill, Rory furtively glanced back up at his face. His eyes bore down on hers, and she felt her heart skip, pound, race, almost escape.

It was too late to look away again. She was caught.

Rory barely registered as the space between them closed. His lips were dry and soft, warm and familiar. Behind them was every excuse, every question, every insult they couldn't find the words for.


	9. Not good

**Hope you all had a very merry christmas! I've been a busy beaver with holiday merriment and a to-do list that would make Santa Claus cry, so my apologies for not updating sooner! Bear with me for a teensy bit more angst, because it has to happen, and then we can all sit back and enjoy the inevitable Rogan comedy of errors! **

As soon as she realized what she was doing, Rory braced herself for it to end. Instinctively, she grabbed the lapels of his jacket, tugging him closer, delaying the inevitable. She felt a hand roughly yank on her waist, another attempt at closing every atom of space between their bodies.

It had been too long.

It's wasn't a fierce kiss, nor was it insistent. But it was firm, intense, passionate. It carried five years of longing. Rory wanted to lose herself forever like this, with her nerves humming with desire. But she couldn't.

Sharply, she drew her head back. They didn't let go completely. His hands stayed on her hips, hers on his chest.

"I have a boyfriend."

"Dump him."

"I can't. Not like this." Rory winced, realizing the blow she had just inadvertently dealt to Mark.

"Right, you love him." There was almost a mocking sneer to Logan's reminder.

Rory nodded numbly.

"Do you still have feelings for me?" He probed her.

Rory looked at him, incredulous. "I think we just established there's still… something between us."

"Then let's give us another chance."

Rory remembered that tone, the same tone he adopted when planning life-or-death brigade events at Yale. Wild, unbridled, reckless as all hell.

"What, in a cautions-to-the-wind, sneak-around affair?"

"Yes!" Logan was a bit louder and sharper than Rory had anticipated, and she startled ever so slightly under the grip of his hands.

Her subtle movement made them both realize their position in each others arms. Rory, ashamed, dropped her hands to her side. This was not fair to Mark.

Logan was less understanding. He pulled her even closer, dipping his head down next to her ear.

"I know you want to give us another chance, Ace." He whispered.

She closed her eyes.

The magic word.

"No." It was almost physically painful to say it, and even more awful to push away from his grip. "We can't."

She hailed a cab, thanking the lord one immediately pulled up, and got in without casting Logan another glance.

She couldn't have.

If she had, there was no way she would have been able to walk away like that.

The driver asked her where she needed to go, and she balked. She didn't want to go home and sleep alone. She knew she'd cry. Her lip quivering, she gave him Mark's address. She needed to remind herself that she was committed to Mark. That Logan's kiss had been a temporary lapse in judgement.

That she had made the right decision.

* * *

><p>"Mark?" Rory almost whined, knocking on his door. She heard a shuffle of movement from inside and let out the breath the had been holding. She knocked a last time just as the door swung open, a bleary-eyed Mark standing in front of her.<p>

"'Sup?" He mumbled.

"I need a hug." Rory rushed forward and snuggled into his bare chest. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight.

"Did something happen tonight?" He asked, worry obvious in his tone. "Are you ok?"

She nodded and pulled her head back slightly, looking into his brown eyes. They searched her blue ones frantically, trying to understand why she had shown up at his door so late at night.

"Do you want to come in?"

Rory nodded again and let him lead her to his room. Wordlessly, she removed her shoes, slipped out of her dress, and grabbed one of his tshirts from a chair next to the door. He watched her, still confused, until she had climbed into bed and pulled the covers up all around her, cocooning herself in layers of fabric. He sighed and got in next to her, turning on his side to face her.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

Rory shook her head, biting her bottom lip. Honestly, everything felt wrong. Mark felt wrong. She felt wrong. Her whole encounter with Logan. It had been wrong, all wrong.

"Weren't you out with Gillian tonight? Did she do something?"

Rory shook her head again.

"You know I like you a lot, Mark." Rory finally found words. Mark frowned, confused.

"I like you too, Ror."

She ventured closer to him in the bed, allowing him to snake an arm around her waist and pull her close. As soon as she was pressed up against him, she tensed, almost wanting to pull away.

Which was ridiculous, given _he _was her boyfriend of three months. This was not good.

She was expecting to see Mark and feel bad for having kissed Logan.

Instead, she felt bad for snuggling up to Mark when she knew it was hurting Logan.

This was really, _really, _not good.


	10. Morning

**Just when I thought I couldn't get any busier, I did. So sorry for neglecting you, my darling reviewers (and my readers too, but I'm slightly less upset about neglecting you lot :P). Ah, I kid, I kid. I love you all the same! Thanks for reading :)**

"Please tell me you're not in Logan's bed."

Rory sat bolt upright, nearly dropping the phone out of her hands.

"What? Why would I -" She glanced around quickly, double checking, and breathed a sigh of relief when she noticed Mark's familiar furniture around her.

"Of course I'm not," she snapped into her phone, feeling like Gillian had probably known that, and was just trying to get a rise out of her. Snorted laughter on the other end of the conversation confirmed her suspicions.

"Well, then, where did you and he storm off to?"

"We just talked. Outside. And then I went to Mark's."

"Just talked?"

Rory settled back into her pillow, glancing surreptitiously at Mark's lanky form, face-first into the mattress. Deciding this conversation was probably best had out of earshot, regardless of how asleep he was, she kicked the covers off of herself and padded out to the kitchen.

"Yes, Gillian, just talked."

"You're lying!" Gillian cackled in a tone Rory wouldn't have labelled gleeful if she weren't certain Gillian was completely and utterly insane.

"How could you possibly tell that from this conversation?" Rory snapped. Gillian understood her irritated tone. Rory was hardly the picture of sunshine in the morning, especially pre-coffee.

"Oh, my dear. Go make yourself a cuppa. Meet me for lunch today and we can talk about it? I can explain to you how windows work, if you'd like." Gillian hung up without waiting for a reply, leaving Rory slack-jawed by the counter, fumbling for a coherent retort.

Fuming the slightest bit, and fighting the foggy confusion made ever worse by her decaffienated morning state, Rory forgot that Mark was still sleeping. She slammed a cupboard door after pulling out her mug, flipping open the jar of coffee grounds with perhaps more vehemence than was called for. It didn't take long for Mark to shuffle out of the bedroom, wry smile crinkling his heavy-lidded eyes.

"Stub your toe again, Ror?"

Rory let out the deep breath the had been holding, slowly lowering the teaspoon in her hand to avoid dropping it.

"No. Sorry. Did I wake you up?" She was blushing furiously, and if it weren't for her years of practised composure as a journalist, she'd be a stammering mess.

_God, I'd make a terrible spy_, she thought as she stiffened when Mark leaned in for a kiss.

"Are we going to talk about last night?" Mark's tone was light, but it was evident that he was worried.

Rory swallowed the lump in her throat, and instinctively wrapped her arms around herself, fingers gripping the sides of her borrowed t-shirt.

"I saw my ex at the bar with Gillian last night," She stared fixedly at the floor as she spoke, fighting to keep her tone even.

"Saw?" Mark's mind was working fast. "Saw as in, went to meet, or saw as in, ran into?"

Rory huffed, looking up briefly before returning her eyes to a whorl in the wood floor. "Saw as in ran into, Mark."

The relief in Mark's sigh was almost palpable.

"You poor thing. Don't say another word. I get why you're so upset." He laughed sharply, the kind of laugh that was really more of a bark.

Rory looked up again, confused, almost bewildered by his statement. He _got _it? She was that obvious? She squeezed her eyes shut. _Please oh please oh please don't be upset_, she found herself thinking. Of course he'd be upset. He had just deduced that she and her ex had -

"You too saw each other and started fighting. I get it." Mark wasn't done talking yet. "Wow, Ror. You still hate him that much after this long? Exes are complete crap. Don't worry about it, babe. It was just a chance encounter, put it behind you."

Rory's brow furrowed. Mark thought that her and Logan had _argued. _He thought she had been so upset because they had gotten into a _fight _about their feelings, or break-up, or whatever.

Oh God, Rory realized. Explaining the truth just got forty times worse.


	11. Okay

**Hi y'all. Busy busy week again, and I was going to be slightly disheartened about not getting many reviews for ch. 10, but then Hyacinth79 brightened my day by reviewing _every single chapter_. Thank you, Hyacinth79. This chappie's for you :)**

In the split second after Mark had spoken, Rory knew she had made her decision. It would have been easy to let the matter drop. To lie, although it wouldn't really be a lie, since she and Logan _had _fought. To leave out a critical detail. But she couldn't do that, to Mark or to Logan.

"I kissed him." Rory's hands flew up to cover her mouth, as though attempting to catch the words before they hit the air. Too late.

Mark frowned, looking slightly confused. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it. Rory studied his expression carefully, watching his breathing, noting his hand clench slightly at his side.

"I'm sorry, if that helps," She added. "I know it probably doesn't, but I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean for it to happen, and I'm so, so sorry. It wasn't supposed to go like that, it just did, and then I panicked, and then I came here, and I'm so sorry Mark, and I know this probably means you're going to hate me, because what kind of person _does _that, and I'm sorry and -"

"Ror." Mark cut her off, his voice sounding strangled. "Ror, shut up."

Rory obliged, still watching him curiously.

"You… kissed him?"

Rory nodded curtly.

"Just kissed him?"

Another nod.

"And then… you came here?"

A third nod. Rory was starting to feel like a bobblehead.

"Jesus." Mark didn't sound angry, just wary.

"I'm sorry." Rory murmured, realizing that it must be the tenth time she had apologized in the span of a single minute.

"But you came here." Mark repeated, a little more firmly.

Rory frowned. "Where else would I have gone?"

"I don't know, home?" Mark returned her frown, albeit deeper and more thoughtful. "You came here to tell me? Or because you felt badly?"

"Because I wanted to make sure." Rory's words were almost a whisper.

"Make sure…"

"Make sure it was a mistake." Rory confessed.

Mark sighed heavily, rubbing his stubbled cheeks roughly.

"And was it?"

Rory nodded, although her insides twisted as she did. Was it?

There was an uncomfortable, heavy silence between them for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts. Mark broke it first.

"Okay."

Rory raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Okay? You're okay with it?"

Mark sighed again, pulling up a barstool at the counter and resting his forearms on the wooden surface.

"Honestly, no. What do you want me to say, Ror? That I'm cool with you kissing other guys? Even worse, your ex? Of course I'm not okay with it."

Rory looked stupefied by his confession, although it was entirely predictable, and more than expected.

"So why'd you say okay?"

"Because I'm willing to forget it. You're quite the catch, Rory Gilmore. I don't want to lose you because you made a stupid mistake with an ex. I know how exes can be. I know what not having closure is like. So, I'm willing to forgive you, and move past it."

"Why?"

"Because, Ror. You came here. You made a mistake, but you came here. You stopped yourself from making a worse mistake, and you came back to _me._ And that's enough for right now."

"Oh." Rory responded dumbly, not sure what else to say.

"Tom's coming over later to for a beer. You going to be around?" Mark's subject change was so abrupt it almost startled Rory. She was relieved, but also somewhat wary, of the finality with which Mark now spoke. The Logan issue was clearly done being discussed. They were moving on.

And Rory wasn't quite sure how she felt about that.

"I'm not sure," she replied. "I was going to meet Gill for lunch."

Mark nodded, both of them acutely aware of the awkward stiffness that had comfortably settled in the kitchen. "You can pop by with her, if you'd like. You should meet Tom, you two would get along."

Silence again. It was almost unbearable, and Rory was unreasonably relieved when her phone started buzzing from behind her.

"I should get that." She stated lamely. Without waiting for Mark's reply, she grabbed the phone and all but ran into the living room, dodging the discomfort in the kitchen.

"Rory Gilmore!" Gillian shrieked on the other end.

"A less than conventional greeting," Rory remarked dryly.

"You sound upset." Gillian's voice was too happy. "Are you upset? Oh my gosh, did you talk to Mark? What did he say? Are you two okay? Please tell me you're okay. Or maybe not. I can't decide. Rory-freaking-Gilmore, answer me!"

"Didn't you just call ten minutes ago, Gillian? And aren't I meeting you for lunch?" Rory effectively avoided all of her questions.

"Yes, but this couldn't wait."

"Really?" Rory was skeptical.

"I googled Logan Huntzberger."

Rory groaned loudly. "Why, for the love of all that is holy, would you do that?" She would have shouted, but Mark was in the next room.

"Hey, don't be mad! I have a right to know about the guys my friends make out with in front of bars!"

Rory grumbled, but conceded that Gillian did, indeed, have a point.

"He's _loaded_, Rory!" Gillian announced next. Rory rolled her eyes. That was the first thing Gillian was going to bring up?

"No he's not," Rory snapped. "He left all that. He left his family."

"He did what? Oh, right, that. I read about that. When he moved to California. Well, google says he changed his mind. That's why he's back in New York. Heading the family business."

Rory frowned slightly. That didn't make sense, at all. Mitchum was still alive and ticking, she knew that much from her Grandparents. So what on earth was Logan doing in charge of Huntzberger Media?

"So he's not working with the internet any more?"

"Oh, look who's interested all of a sudden," Gillian teased. "But no, I didn't say that. He's brought all the papers to the social networking world. Twitter, blogs, facebook, e-readers… Google seems to hold a high opinion for what he's done for the Huntzberger group. Seems to think he saved at least five papers by re-envisioning them online. He's actually kind of the king of digital reporting."

Rory snorted. "Well, lucky for me I'm not a reporter any more."

"Hm. Funny you should say that. I'm actually really interested in the whole idea of digital media."

"Gillian?" Rory's question had a warning tone, not liking the meddling places her friend was headed.

"You know, I haven't read a single _Ask Ace _question about the future of journalism. It's really online, isn't it?"

"_Gillian_." The questioning was gone, that was a downright warning.

"I think that the column would be _so _interesting if you'd maybe interview someone who was involved in the field, someone who knows a lot about where aspiring journalists should start…"

"Gillian!" Rory shrieked. Mark poked his head through the doorway to the living room, bewildered.

"Everything okay?" He asked, still slightly tight from their tense discussion. Rory wanted to laugh. The sheer absurdism of this situation, phone in one hand with her meddling friend, worried boyfriend at the door, alluring ex wandering the streets of Manhattan somewhere, quite potentially thinking about her.

Rory had never been so at a loss of words to respond to Mark's question.

**Thanks for reading, let me know what you thought? Where you'd like to see this head next? And hey, if you've got nothing to say, just leave me a :). I'll be smiling right back when I see it :D**


	12. Emails

On Monday morning, Rory logged into her email and found herself rather incapable of shutting her mouth. The _nerve_! The sheer, utter, _nerve_ Gillian had! She'd be furious, if she weren't so horrifically curious. And if it weren't for the butterflies that seem to be having a very excited party in her stomach.

The forwarded message from Gillian read like a ransom note. Or an executioner's warrant.

_Subject: Ask Ace Idea!_

_Hi Paul,_

_Rory's new column is making such a splash, isn't it! I was helping her sort through letters over lunch earlier this week, and something occurred to me. She's getting a lot of questions about writing blogs and being involved in online reporting. Now, Rory tends to push them aside, because she's never been much of an expert in the area. But I got thinking; a friend of a friend of mine knows Logan Huntzberger, who I think you've probably heard of. I could try to get a hold of him, see if we could arrange an interview? I think the Aware readers would love to hear his opinions on the future of journalism, especially since so many have said that he himself _is _the future of journalism!_

_Let me know,_

_Gillian_

As if on cue, the phone on Rory's desk rang twice. She picked it up cautiously, unsure of who was on the other end.

"Ms. Gilmore!" Paul's voice was uncharacteristically bright and cheerful. "Step into my office for a moment, would you?"

_And that's all for now, folks._ Rory thought grimly as she pushed her chair from the desk and stood up._ My life is officially over. _

She rapped on Paul's door before letting herself in, cheerful smile plastered on her face. Gillian wanted to play dirty? She'd play dirty, all right.

"Are you familiar with the Huntzberger group?" Paul asked, not looking up from his laptop.

Rory snorted, drawing a curious stare from her boss.

"I've heard of them." She answered, cheeks flushing.

"Right." Paul looked at her with a raised eyebrow. She shrugged his inquisitive stare off, used to having him stare at her like she was an alien. "I've just received an email from Logan Huntzberger's assistant."

Rory's heart starting beating so loudly she was sure Paul could hear it. "Really?" She said. Well, in her mind, she had said it, cool and confident. In actuality, her reply had been something more likened to a strangled squawk.

"Mmm. Ms. Benson contacted him with regards to an interview for your new column. I think its a wonderful idea. If you select your best internet related questions, and have him answer them."

Rory nodded, struck with an idea. "So… I can just email him the questions?" She asked hopefully, crossing her fingers behind her back.

And there was the two-headed monster stare again.

"No, Ms. Gilmore, you'll meet him to conduct a proper interview, and record his responses as is our standard. Honestly, you'd think you were new at this sometimes."

"Sorry, Paul," Rory murmured. "Should I contact his assistant about arranging a time?" She couldn't see any way out of this, so she figured she should at least be cooperative. In any case, she could just call the assistant and pick a date months from now, then cancel it, then maybe cancel it a second time, until everyone forgot.

The gleam in Paul's eye suggested her plan might have been too hasty.

"Actually, we already have a time. Gillian was kind enough to set it up, apparently with Mr. Huntzberger himself."

"Was she now." Rory spoke through gritted teeth. Paul nodded.

"It's kind of short notice. Something about a cancelled appointment? Now or never kind of thing, so Ms. Benson said it might as well be now. He's coming by the office at four."

"He's WHAT?" Rory jumped back with a startled shriek.

"Ms. Gilmore!" Paul looked understandably frightened of her explosive reaction. "Really! I don't see the big deal. It shouldn't take _that _long to find the questions for him. I'll extend your deadline for the piece about Kim Jong-Il until Friday, if you're worried about that."

Rory breathed deeply, begging her mind to shut up so she could process this turn of events. "Oh, I wouldn't be worried about that if I were you." She replied without thinking, "I would be worried for your fashion editor's life."

She just knew that Paul had his trademark quizzical eyebrow raised as she turned away from him and stormed to Gillian's desk.

"You _minx_."

Gillian casually swung her chair around, fingers clasped under her chin like some sort of supervillain. "Good morning, sunshine. I trust you got my email?"

"You can do the interview. I'm not seeing him." Rory snapped.

Gillian pouted. "But I went out of my way to arrange it. Are you _sure _you don't want to see him?"

Rory brought her fingers to her temples, massaging an imaginary headache. "Yes, Gillian, I'm sure. Things are tense enough between Mark and I as is. I don't want to see him. Didn't I make that clear over lunch?"

"Oh, you were saying you _didn't _want to see him? Because mostly what I heard was 'Why'd Logan do that, I wonder if Logan is thinking about it, where do you suppose Logan is'?"

Rory squeezed her eyes shut. "Don't exaggerate. I only mentioned Logan briefly. I must have told you about Mark, too." Her voice had an almost pleading tone to it. She didn't need to open her eyes to know that Gillian was shaking her head.

"You need to talk to him, Rory. As your self-appointed common sense and conscience, I get to be the judge of these things."

"Can I put forward a vote of no confidence on your title?" Rory groaned.

"Nope," Gillian replied cheerfully.

"Didn't think so." Rory sighed. "Why today, Gillian? Was giving me warning against your better judgement, too?"

"Actually, no." Gillian frowned. "I had wanted something next week, but Logan insisted it be today. Said he had a cancellation, and was booked through next month otherwise. What do you think _that _means?" She waggled her eyebrows at Rory, who rolled her eyes.

"I think it means he's a busy guy who had a cancelled appointment."

"Spoilsport." Gillian stuck her tongue out.

"Busybody." Rory shot back.

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><p><strong>Oh man, looks like Logan might be popping in next chaaaapter... Are you as excited as I am to see what happens? :)<strong>


	13. Reception

**I'll have you know, my cat is sitting on the table in front of me, glaring. I think she's mad because I haven't been updating often enough. So, this is for her as much as it is for all my reviewers. Who I love. With a captial 'L'. Also a capital 'O', 'V' and 'E'. **

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><p>"Maybe he's Andrea's boyfriend?" One of the four women whispered, leaning over the desk to her friend.<p>

Another shook her head forcefully. "Can't be, the boyfriend is shorter than she is, remember?"

"Oh. Lexis, maybe?" The third suggested.

"No, she's single." The first one whispered again, squinting at the blond man sitting in the reception area.

"He can't be Gillian's." The last one spoke with a slight note of awe.

"Oh!" The second exclaimed. "That must be it!"

"Lucky Gillian." The third one sighed wistfully. They all murmured their agreement.

"Um, hi?" Gillian stood behind the desk, hands on hips.

The woman leaning over the desk straightened herself up and adjusted her skirt.

"Your boyfriend is here, Gillian." She informed the impatient looking fashion editor.

"My boyfriend?" Gillian flicked her eyes towards the blond and snorted. "Nope. Not mine. Have you seen Rory? And why is he just sitting there?"

"Rory's in the lunch room." Another woman piped up helpfully, shaking herself to wipe away the dreamy smile that had plastered itself across her face.

Gillian rolled her eyes. "Honestly, girls. You'd think we never have attractive men stroll into our office. Maria, get back to reception and tell our visitor Rory will be out in a second to get him."

"We _don't _ever have attractive men in the office," the first woman groused as she walked back to her desk at reception. The blond had leaned back into his uncomfortable waiting room chair, making the green plastic abomination look like the most cozy armchair known to man. Or maybe it was just him that looked so inviting. He was watching Maria with an amused smirk, and as soon as she sat down he casually tilted his head towards her.

"Sorry, I didn't catch your name," his drawling voice was as inviting as he was. Maria blushed and stared down at her telephone, mumbling her name.

He chuckled. "I don't bite, Maria," he informed her, standing up and walking over to the ledge of the reception area. "Unless…" He leaned in closer to her, staring at her with big brown eyes, "you're into that kind of thing."

"Oh!" Maria's head shot up at the insinuation, but found nothing malicious in his gaze. Instead, she was confronted with a cheeky grin and eyes dancing with rakish charm.

"Rory will be out in a second!" She squeaked, parroting Gillian's order. The man laughed again and shifted slightly so that his forearms barely touched the counter.

"Perfect." He shot her another grin and looked over his shoulder to see a slightly flustered looking Rory Gilmore being pulled to the waiting area by the elbow.

"Logan!" Gillian called merrily as she tugged Rory along. "I found Rory!"

"I can see that," Logan nodded sagely, eyes dancing.

Rory just scowled.

"Rory has everything set up in the lunch room," Gillian added. "I'll show you the way!"

"Are you going to be Rory's interpreter for the interview?" Logan asked teasingly.

Gillian laughed. "'Fraid not. But I think she'll be more willing to talk when she's back in her room with a cup of coffee in front of her."

"Naturally," Logan conceded.

Rory, who had been watching the exchange silently, cleared her throat.

"My questions aren't as thorough as I would have liked. I didn't have much time to prepare them." She shot the last bit like an accusation, glaring at Logan.

"My apologies. It was really a now or never kind of thing."

"Can't say I'm surprised," Rory's mouth twitched, and she frowned slightly, "You're good at now-or-nevers, aren't you."

Logan blinked, taken aback.

"Some things never change," Rory continued with a sigh, turning on her heel. She shook her arm from Gillian's hold and all but stormed back to the lunch room.

Gillian looked from Rory, who sat down and buried her face into her mug, to Logan, who was standing as though glued to the spot.

"Oh dear," She mused aloud, "You may have already screwed this up."

"Some things never change." Logan responded, equally thoughtful.

**Oh man the plot thickens... Who's ready for the Rory/Logan interaaaction next chaaaaapter (I know I can't wait)**


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